Thursday, August 16, 2012

Clock Smashing (and Repairing)

I have cried every day since August 1.

In case you lost count, that's 15 days. But, today, I haven't (and even though the day is not over yet), I don't feel like doing it today. It's no secret how much I have been not wanting dreading going back to work and leaving L & E and I have been in mourning. Literally grieving. The other day I was pissed how the clocks in this house were mocking me. there was a clock staring me in the face. At one point I counted: 9 clocks in this house? Really? Don't know what time it is? Well, come on down to the Zagorski's! I went so far as to turn some of them off and put masking tape (yes I did) on some of them. It wasn't until J looked at me with that raised eyebrow look that I (sheepishly) decided to stop smashing the clocks (okay, I just turned them back on). I realized that as much as I hate how quickly time is going by, I also realized that time is going to be the same thing that is going to bring me to apple picking, Canadian and American Thanksgiving, Halloween, a Birdie who will turn one, a Peanut who will turn three, all followed of course by the grand finale that is Christmas. A lot to look forward to, no? Not to mention all the other delicious bits in between. So, time, I still do not like you, and will probably never embrace you, but you can stay.

As soon as I made my peace with the 9 faces in my home, I came across this, written by Jill from

Dear Me 20 Years From Now,

I wonder if you’ve become one of those women who briefly lingers around, a safe distance behind, young moms carting their babies and toddlers through the grocery store with that far-off look in your eyes. If you gently smile at the mom when she looks up and catches your glance, obviously frazzled by how challenging taking 2 kids grocery shopping is, as if to tell her it’s going to be okay. If you look at her and miss that time, want so badly to trade 5 minutes of the independence you have now that your kids are much older so that you can rest a toddler’s head on your shoulder, or buckle a baby in their car seat, mindful not to pinch any belly chub in the harness.

I want you to know that you were acutely aware of how fast they were growing. Even though many days would pass in the blink of an eye, there would always be a moment when your world would snap to a halt, and you would look at them while they were doing something mundane and normal, and you would be painfully conscious that they were no longer the size they were last week, and that they would never be the size they are at that moment again.

I want you to know that you went to bed every night with one simple wish for the next day. To just do better.

Even though you were tired and challenged, exasperated and overwhelmed, you knew then that you would miss these days…most of them, at least. It was a truth that was hard to live with, and most of the time you ignored it because there was nothing you could do about the passing of time. If you spent your days mourning the ones that had gone by, you’d miss out on the days you were living in.

You knew you were on a light rail, moving at speeds you couldn’t comprehend. You had no control over the ride that brought you to where you are today, but believe me when I say you searched so very hard to find the emergency brake.

Please know, please remember that you tried to savor that time. Be at peace, knowing you spent late afternoons curled up with them on the couch, that sometimes you just sat and watched them move and run, that occasionally you took inventory of all the things they’d learned in the last week, and that you appreciated your time with them the best you knew how. Know that despite your very best efforts, there was no way to freeze time.

I promise you, you tried.


And although I have heard this (or something like it) from my friends and family, it really stuck with me reading it in print. Or, maybe I finally just got it through my head. Pick one.

I did try, dammit.

Then, my thoughts drifted to the wonderful nine months home with Birdie and Peanut and J and I suddenly was flooded with everything I have done. Things for myself: like picking up a saxophone again for the first time in 16 years and ending up on a recorded album, like starting my Doctorate and kicking ass in my first course, like channeling my inner Martha Stewart and painting and changing fixtures and ripping up carpet at home, like finding photography, like getting a gig to be a consultant/contributor for a kid's website. And that was just me. Although I tried hard to find that emergency brake, it eluded me and in the process I watched my son cut 8 teeth, crawl, stand, kiss, hug, play with his sister, and start coming into his own as the happy, playful, easy-going boy that he is. Although I could not freeze time, I potty trained my daughter, taught her new songs and words, eased her fear of swimming, spent lazy afternoons crafting, reading, and laughing (there was so much laughing). All the while with J by my side. What a gift. Together, we did it all.

As I prep J for the new routine that will happen in about 2 weeks time, I have been prepping myself too. For example, I bought this:

It is made out of grade A (or better) Rose Quartz, Black Tourmaline, and rare optical-quality Frosted Quartz beads. It's sole purpose is to ease the discomfort one feels when she is away from her children. The black tourmaline serves as a buffer from disharmony of situations or individuals. Rose quartz serves to nurture the heart and calms the emotions. I hope it helps.

I have a glorious last week planned ahead for the four of us. Everyone is going to do and/or get something special, including me. Some of the week will involve: homemade doughnuts, nail polish, ink, swings, spaghetti, paper, glass, and love. Have fun guessing who gets what because I won't tell. ;)

Holdin' on...

I really did try.

No comments:

Post a Comment